Have Your Cake and Kill Him Too by Nancy Martin Page B

Maybe he’s chasing a big story.”
    â€œAt Cupcakes?”
    I was getting accustomed to Richard D’eath’s commitment to his calling as a crime-stopping reporter for the city’s prestigious newspaper. Unlike my somewhat precarious employment at a Philadelphia rag, his job required long, irregular hours of tracking down stories that always landed on the front page. But Cupcakes wasn’t his usual territory.
    Delilah slipped back onto the stool beside mine. “How are things going, by the way? With you and Richard?”
    â€œThey’re going. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other.”
    But Delilah shook her head. “Lose the evasive maneuvers, honey. It’s me you’re talking to. That man is fine.”
    I laughed unsteadily. “Yes, he’s good-looking.”
    â€œAnd you’re cool as ice cream.”
    â€œNot so cool,” I said. “Things have heated up a little.”
    â€œA little? Or a lot? Have you—hold on, have you fallen off your pedestal, girlfriend?”
    I put my elbows on the table and rubbed my face. “I’ve done some stupid things in the last few months, Delilah.”
    She grinned. “You doin’ the deed with Richard?”
    I took a deep breath. “Just once.”
    Delilah let out a raucous laugh. “Honey, once the barn door is open, that horse is gone! Congratulations. Richard’s perfect for you! Smart, sophisticated, cultured. Just right.”
    â€œThank you, I guess.”
    â€œSo,” she said, “things must be officially over between you and your prince of darkness?”
    â€œWith Michael? Yes. Definitely yes. Completely over.”
    â€œGood,” she declared. “Because he’s here tonight.”
    I nearly fell off my stool.
    â€œWith some wiseguy friends on the other side of the bar. See? They’ve ordered half the menu, and they’re smoking cigars, drinking the most expensive booze in the place and pretty much acting like Bobby De Niro is going to show up any minute to do research for his next movie.”
    â€œOh,” I said in a squeak.
    â€œHe’s got some tacky girl hanging on his arm, and not one of the kiddie Cupcakes, either, but a grown woman with some dangerous curves. I’m afraid she’s going to give him a lap dance before the night is over.”
    I followed Delilah’s pointed gaze across the crowded restaurant, over the tops of many heads and through the hazy air to a large table set on the mezzanine that was prime seating to watch the Cupcakes show. Four men and their dates sat before a forest of bottles and plates of food. The women were animated, brightly dressed and vividly made-up, with plenty of long hair that curled around naked shoulders. By contrast, the men were still except for the wreaths of smoke that wafted upward from their cigars. Two of the men were wearing open-necked shirts with gold jewelry nestled in their chest hair.
    I found myself staring across the restaurant and directly into the steady gaze of Michael Abruzzo.
    He didn’t move and neither did I. The woman beside him had somehow entangled her entire upper body around his arm, and she was giggling into his ear. He didn’t seem to notice her or the hubbub of Cupcakes around us. As for me, the rest of the room evaporated in a heartbeat and took all the oxygen with it.
    â€œCompletely over?” Delilah said from far away. “I don’t think so.”
    I wobbled off my stool just as Emma arrived with our drinks.
    â€œHey,” she said. “Mick’s here.”
    â€œI heard.”
    â€œOne of the Cupcakes told me he gave her a three-hundred-dollar tip.”
    â€œWell, well,” said Delilah. “I guess crime does pay.”
    Emma put the drinks on the table, and I murmured that I’d be back shortly. Delilah started to apologize, but I waved it off.
    â€œYou okay?” Emma caught my elbow.
    â€œI need a minute.” I